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Phoenix	By : LadyMeda Category: M through R > Phantom of the Opera Views: 4486 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera or any variation thereof. I do not make any money from this fiction. Tags include things that will be in future chapters.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
“So everything is prepared for the critic's visit? Absolutely everything?" Erik inquired sceptically.
“Yes, everything.” The Persian assured him.
“And you reserved box 5 for him? It is the best seat in the house.”
“Yes yes. It is all taken care of.”
Erik ran a nervous hand through his hair. He wanted everything to be just right. “Worry not, my friend.” said the Persain. “The critic will be escorted in, watch the performance from box 5 while dining on our most splendid meal, and then he will...” The Persian's voice trailed off to an inaudible mumble. “... enjoythemsqrade. It will be perfect! Have no fear!”
The Phantom eyed him with suspicion. “What are you bumbling about? It isn't like you to mince words unless I'm choking you. Speak up.”
The Persian needlessly rearranged the items on his desk. “And then he will enjoy the... erm...”
“Out with it!” Erik shouted impatiently.
“... the masquerade.”
The two stared at each other in an uncomfortable silence until Erik growled. “What.”
The Persian let out a tense laugh, shrugging his shoulders. “I couldn't help myself! The patrons, the staff... they were all looking forward to the annual festivities!”
“I told you! NO masquerade!” Erik bellowed.
“I know you did. But you also hired me to do what is best for business!” Insisted the dark-skinned manager. “And canceling the largest gala of the year is hardly wise!”
“Fine!” The Phantom yelled, slamming his fist down on the desk. “Have your gala. But must it be a masquerade?!”
“Its tradition!” The Persian insisted nervously. “Besides... how else could you attend?” His face scrunched up in anticipation of the Phantom's rage.
“WHAT?!” Erik roared, hands clenching and unclenching in an overwhelming desire to kill his manager. “Please tell me you haven't promised anyone that I would make an appearance.”
The Persian gave another uncomfortable laugh. “I must say, this 'Meg' has done wonders for your temper. You didn't even try to strangle me! Are you certain I should not make her the lead before the critic comes?”
Erik took a long, composing breath. “No. I want her to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that she earned it on her own. Now what is this nonsense about me attending?”
“Well... it would be terribly suspicious if no one ever met the new owner of the opera. Intrigue would eventually mount, and people would want answers. It is much wiser to displace such intrigue early on, when you have the chance. As long as a few reputable people can say 'Yes, I've met him', you will be safe. And what better opportunity than the masquerade? After that, people will lose interest and you can fade into the shadows as a silent partner.”
Erik's hand moved to massage his uncovered temple. He wanted so much to argue but knew that the Persian had a strong point. “This is the reason I have chosen you as my adviser.” He sighed. “You have never failed to tell me a truth that I do not want to hear.”

* * * * *
Meg called to the Phantom from within his empty music room. “Erik? Are you there?” Just like in the passageway a week ago, she was greeted only by her own echoes. The sound of them made the space feel more lonely than she'd ever imagined it could. It was still Sunday and much earlier than they usually met. Meg wondered whether she should stay or return later. But just as she turned to leave, a voice barreled through the room.
“Have you decided to return to your teacher?”
Spinning around to find the source of his voice, she was unsure how to react; so she answered as honestly as possible. “I never truly left.”
“HAH!” came his haughty laughter. “You mock me, mademoiselle.” For a second time she felt like tiny creature of prey within a predator's domain.
Meg didn't understand why he would say such a thing. She had done everything that he had asked. “Tell me what you would have me do, and I will do it!” Meg implored, and was met with silence once again. An involuntary shiver wracked through her.
“I would have you dance.” The Ghost sounded from directly behind her, sending her heart into her throat. Before she could even turn around, he had her firmly by the wrist; leading her to the studio with such long strides she had trouble keeping up.
“Your debut grows near, and enough time has been wasted.” In a single fluid movement he swung her towards the center of the room and snatched up his violin.
“But Erik...”
“That's Maestro to you. Now dance!”
His words cut deep, but she did her best to stand tall and proud. Anger seeped crystal clear into the music as he began to play. They worked through the second act, and she did her best to obey the commands he barked at her. Slowly his fury seemed to thaw.
As Meg dropped her final pose, the Phantom spoke. His tone was gruff, but had lost its bite. “We still have a great deal of work to do.” She nodded, preparing herself to begin again. “The critic arrives in only two day's time, and you need to be... What is that thing flopping about on your head?”
Meg touched her hair to find the delicate gold ribbon she'd received earlier that day. “Oh, it was a gift from Martine. Isn't it beautif-- OW!” She yelped as the Phantom snatched up the ribbon and tossed it aside, taking a few strands of hair with it.
“Martine has offered you plenty of distraction on his own.” He growled. “You do not need that thing bouncing around, setting its own rhythm on your skull.” The Phantom walked back to his place. “What a ridiculous present for a ballerina.” He muttered, placing the violin on his shoulder. “AGAIN!”
His anger seemed to have returned twofold. It frightened her to risk angering him further, but she could not bring herself to take position. “Maestro, please!” Meg pleaded. “How have I so displeased you?”
“It is not you that displeases me. It is your lack of discipline!” He seethed, setting down his instrument. “You have not come to practice for nearly two weeks! I had hoped you cared something for your career.”
Meg looked at him with confusion. “But... I thought that is what you wanted. You told me to give Martine more time!”
“Not ALL of it!” The Phantom bellowed, practically shaking with agitation as he stalked about. “Why have I put so much effort into training you, just so you can throw it all away for some rich banker?!”
Meg's confusion slowly turned to anger. “So what would you have of me, then? No man will marry a woman who can spend no time with him! Would you have me become a spinster?!” She was surprised to find herself shouting.
“That is not what I ask!” He yelled with an exasperated wave of his hand before turning away from her.
Meg was amazed at her own boldness as she circled around to confront him face-to-face. “It IS what you ask! But what man would want a woman who is already married to the Opera?!”
“I WOULD!”
The words had hardly left Erik's mouth before his entire body stiffened. This time when he turned away, she did not persist. It took a while for what he'd said to soak in.
“But... I thought... you said--”
“I lied.” He admitted so quietly it was barely audible, leaning a hand against the wall.
Slowly the events of the past few weeks replayed themselves in her mind; this time from his point of view. “Why didn't you tell me?” Meg croaked. “Why did you turn me away?”
He bent farther away, hiding his face from her view. “Because there is no happy ending to be had here.”
Meg could stand it no longer. She walked forward, pulling his arm to turn him around. “Why do you say such things?”
Reluctantly, Erik's silver eyes met hers. A sad smile crossed his lips as he reached up to stroke her cheek. “Oh Meg.” He sighed. “Could you ever learn to love me as I am now?”
For an intense moment, they held each others gaze as what he was asking dawned on her. Finally Meg cupped her hands around his face, one on his cheek and one on the mask. “You deserve my whole heart... but my heart does not know how to love half of a man.”
Erik's eyes flitted closed as if fighting back tears. He tried to turn his head away, but she held him fast.
“I have trusted you with my life.” She insisted. “Now it is time for you to trust me. Please... let me love ALL of you.”
His hands covered hers, pausing for a moment before pulling away from their embrace. “I cannot.”
The room became painfully silent as Meg struggled to come to terms with everything that had been revealed.
“Then what are we to do?”
He took a deep breath before striding away to his violin. “What we have always done.” He said, tucking it under his chin. “We dance.”
- 8
- 9
- 10
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Phoenix